


Learning Curve

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Cuddling, Discipline, Ezra is a little shit, Hurt/Comfort, Luckily he has people looking out for him, Mentor/Protégé, Spanking, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 03:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8187740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Adjusting to life on the Ghost is sometimes an uphill struggle, especially with new rules and regulations to follow. Ezra isn't used to his actions having consequences, and with a knack for getting himself into dangerous situations, he finds out the hard way that his new family aren't in the habit of letting him get away with it.





	1. Kanan: Or, The Dangers of a Late Night Stroll

**Author's Note:**

> Because as CaraGem pointed out to me the other day, maybe Ezra would think twice about doing half the dangerous stuff he does if the crew of the Ghost laid down the law every once in a while.
> 
> Warning: Kinda goes without saying, but there's spanking in this story.

 

Kanan can’t say for sure how long he’s been sitting out here on the ramp of the _Ghost_ – he’d left his chronometer back in his room – but he can tell by the growing darkness that it’s late. The sun has long since set, bathing the grassy plains of Lothal in shadow, taking most of the heat with it.

“Hey.” Fingers glide gently through his hair, and he tilts his head back to see Hera smiling down at him. “Coming to bed?”

“Not yet.” He breathes a short sigh and returns his gaze to the shadowed grassland. “Ezra’s still out there.”

“He’s what?” The Twi’lek’s fingers tighten in his hair, making him wince. “On his _own?_ Kanan, what if something-”

“The kid’s fine,” the Jedi reassures, his voice a low, calm murmur. _At least until I get my hands on him._ “Ran off without his communicator again.”

He released his own anger and frustration into the force a while ago, although it had taken an hour of focused meditation to do so. Tonight marks the third occasion this week that Ezra’s wandered off without telling anyone. He’d abided it the first time – the kid was still adjusting to life aboard a vessel, and perhaps hadn’t understood why he might need to inform the others where he was going. After the second occurrence, Kanan and Hera had sat down with Ezra and gone over the rules again in detail, emphasising the importance of knowing everyone’s whereabouts in case of an attack. They’d been sure the boy had understood them, he’d _sworn_ he wouldn’t go wandering off like that again…

“You need to talk to him,” Hera says after a pause, her tone leaving no room for argument. “He can’t keep doing this.”

Kanan sighs again, closing his eyes briefly as he releases a flutter of uncertainty into the force. The Twi’lek’s right, of course. In the few weeks since they accepted Ezra into their little family, the boy’s managed to get himself into all kinds of trouble, from Imperial entanglements to getting stuck halfway up a cliff that he had no business climbing in the first place.

 _“I saw the light reflect off something,”_ had been the kid’s flimsy excuse once Zeb had climbed up to fetch him, Ezra tossed over his shoulder like a sack of meal. _“I thought maybe it was a surveillance beacon or something, I was gonna dismantle it!”_

All in all, they’ve given the teenager far too much leeway. It’s time for Kanan to put his foot down.

“I’ll handle it,” he promises, reaching up to take Hera’s hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You go on to bed.”

A small, sympathetic smile curls at her lips and she leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll wait up all the same, dear. Call me if you need me.”

Kanan listens to her footsteps retreating back into the ship, a small smile of his own tugging at his lips. Hera’s always claimed that she hasn’t a maternal instinct in her body, and perhaps once upon a time that had been the case. But then she’d found Sabine, and Kanan had watched how easily she’d taken the young Mandalorian under her wing, and he’d known the truth - that Hera was a natural mother, as natural as they came, but due to the constant state of danger they lived in, having children had simply never been a feasible option. Hera had clearly resigned herself to that long ago.

But now Ezra’s come along, even younger than Sabine had been when they’d taken her in, and very much in need of a guardian. It’s little wonder that Hera’s mothering instincts have risen to the fore once again.

Kanan senses a slight shift in the force, and opens his eyes in time to see his young apprentice tip-toeing around a rock outcropping a little ways up ahead, peering warily at his surroundings as he approaches the ship. Feeling a wave of relief at seeing the kid whole and well (even though his weak force-bond with the boy had told him that already), he pushes himself to his feet slowly.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he attempts to school his expression to mirror the same sort of sombre detachment that Master Billaba had so effortlessly accomplished whenever Kanan had returned from doing something he ought not to have done.

“Oh,” Ezra says, his voice soft and hesitant as he approaches the ramp, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey, Kanan. Um. What are you doing up so late?”

The Jedi arches an eyebrow at him. “You first, kid.”

Ezra winces, then shrugs and averts his gaze. “Y’know. Just…walking, I guess.”

“Walking,” Kanan echoes flatly, and sees Ezra’s shoulders hunch. Clearly the kid’s expecting another scolding lecture, or for Kanan to lose his temper, or kick him off the ship, or something equally as drastic.

He sighs, reaching out to lay a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “It’s late. Go get ready for bed, I’ll be there in a few minutes. You and I need to have a little talk.”

The teenager nods and slouches further, all but stomping up the ramp, clearly already on the defensive. Kanan watches him go and heaves another quiet sigh, trepidation stirring in his gut at the task ahead. When he’d first accepted that it was his destiny to be the kid’s master, he hadn’t expected discipline to be such a daunting prospect. His own master had always handled things so effortlessly – and Kanan can remember all too well just how _thoroughly_ she’d imparted certain lessons, especially when he’d put his life at risk attempting some ill-advised stunt.

Huh. Come to think of it, he’d been a lot like Ezra, once.

He takes a moment to centre himself, allowing the cool night breeze and the gentle rustle of the grasslands to calm him, before turning and heading back inside the _Ghost,_ shutting the hatch doors behind him.

“That’s the third time he’s snuck out like that,” Zeb grumbles from the shadows.

Having sensed his friend’s presence some time ago, Kanan only sighs and nods. “I know.”

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” the Lasat continues. “You need to nip that kind of behaviour in the bud, mate. Kit’s testing you.”

Kanan holds up a hand to forestall the familiar lecture. “I _know,_ Zeb. I’m going to handle it.”

Zeb looks a little surprised at that, as though he hadn’t thought the Jedi capable of putting his foot down. Kanan tries not to take offence at the notion.

“Well…good.” Zeb nods approvingly, and claps Kanan on the shoulder. “Good on you, mate. Kit’s been needing it for a while now.” The Lasat turns away to head back towards the engine room, before he pauses and twists back around to glance at him, his face serious. “You won’t go too hard on him, right? I mean, kit’s broken the rules a few times, sure, but he’s only young. And I don’t think he’ll be accustomed-like to finding himself over someone’s-”

“Zeb,” Kanan interrupts softly, and tries to keep the smile off his face (he knows he isn’t successful in hiding it altogether). “He’ll be fine. I’ll take care of it.”

The Lasat straightens a little, apparently satisfied, and nods again before receding back into the shadows, his heavy footfalls fading as he retreats in the opposite direction, likely getting as far away from Ezra’s cabin as physically possible. The rooms are fairly well soundproofed, but the Lasat’s enhanced hearing would likely make it an uncomfortable affair, and the kid’s quarters _are_ next door to Zeb’s, after all.

There’s a part of Kanan that wishes he were the one walking away, but deep down he knows that he has a duty of care as the kid’s master.

Doesn’t mean he has to like it, though.

 

 

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

 

 

“Look, I just wanted some fresh air, okay?” Ezra’s pacing again like a caged lothcat, shoulders hunched and brow creased in a frown. “I know I shouldn’t have gone out without telling someone, but-”

“You’re right,” Kanan interrupts, voice firm but controlled. “You shouldn’t have. So why did you?”

“Because I was _bored!_ ”

Kanan shakes his head, but otherwise keeps his posture relaxed, hands resting on his knees. “That’s not good enough, kid.”

“Yeah, well….” Ezra perches on the edge of the small workbench near the far wall, kicking the heel of his foot against the metal support strut as he huffs out a moody sigh. “It’s the only reason I got.”

Watching his apprentice for a long moment, Kanan forces himself to look past the defensive grumpiness, past the attitude and the abruptly dismissive answers, and study what’s underneath. Despite the kid’s act, he can sense the undercurrent of regret and lingering uncertainty clear as day.

“Ezra,” he says, his tone softer now. “I need you to understand that this isn’t just about rule-breaking. It’s about putting yourself in unnecessary danger without taking basic safety precautions.”

“I can take care of myself,” Ezra tries to argue, but some of the fight has gone from his voice.

“What if you’d been attacked?” Kanan presses. “Without your communicator, you wouldn’t have been able to call for help. And what if the _Ghost_ had come under fire? If we’d been forced to relocate and touch down somewhere else, you wouldn’t have known where to start looking for us.”

The teenager’s shoulders hunch a little further, his head down, but he’s stopped kicking the bench’s support strut and Kanan can sense a growing turmoil of emotions within him as he mulls over the words.

“We aren’t the Empire,” the Jedi continues quietly. “We don’t make rules for the sake of wielding power over you, we do it to keep you _safe.”_

Ezra visibly wilts at that, all the tension draining from his posture in the blink of an eye.

“I know,” the kid mumbles. “I...I’m sorry.”

Kanan allows the silence to stretch on for a few minutes. He can tell Ezra’s lost in his own thoughts, fighting an internal battle with himself, unknowingly broadcasting his conflicting emotions along their bond. But even without the force, Kanan can tell the kid’s feeling guilty just by looking at him – it’s written all over his face. Time to put him out of his misery and move on.

“Ezra,” he calls softly, and holds out a hand towards his apprentice. “Come here.”

To his surprise, the kid moves willingly, hopping down from the bench and crossing the small cabin towards the bunk. Kanan reaches out to take hold of Ezra’s wrist, giving it a squeeze.

“We’re going to finish our discussion here and now,” he tells the Lothian. “After that, it’ll all be in the past. Understood?”

The younger man studies him, puzzled. “But…but I thought we already talked about- ah! Hey!”

Kanan, having abruptly tugged his apprentice down over his lap, settles a restraining arm across his lower back as Ezra tries to push himself back up.

“Wait, wait, you’re not really going to…?” As the Jedi rests a hand on the curve of Ezra’s buttocks, the kid makes a noise of indignation. “Kanan, I’m not a little kid!”

“No, you’re not,” he agrees patiently, and gives the thin sleeping-pants an assessing look before deciding that they aren’t going to provide much padding anyway, so they might as well stay up. “But you _are_ my apprentice. Which means from now on, whenever you do something to put yourself in danger when I’ve told you otherwise, this is exactly where you’ll find yourself.”

“But, but, but,” Ezra stutters, feet pushing against the floor as he tries to lever himself out of range, and Kanan decides it’s probably better to get on with it and do the talking part at the end when the kid’s more amenable to a verbal discussion.

The first blow sounds overly loud in the small room, and for a moment Kanan worries that perhaps he’s used too much strength (he’d been carefully keeping himself in check, because the youth’s still pretty scrawny after years on the streets, despite how much Hera and Zeb have been feeding him), but all Ezra does is go still over his lap, and there’s no pulse of pain along their bond, only a distant feeling of shock.

Steeling himself, Kanan brings his hand down again, and again, and again, a little harder each time, until he finds a comfortable swing and a rhythm that feels right. For the first half-dozen or so, Ezra seems too stunned to do more than gasp and flinch at the swats, but true to form he soon finds his voice again.

“Kanan!” his apprentice yelps, squirming beneath his hold. “Ow! Kanan, c’mon, man. Ah! Okay, okay, ow, I get it, I messed up! _Kanan!”_

Taking another calming breath to centre himself in the force, the Jedi maintains the brisk, steady pace of sharp, stinging swats, focusing on their bond to get a true sense of Ezra’s emotional balance. The kid might be saying he understands, but what he’s broadcasting is a jumbled array of conflicting feelings. No, they’re not done yet, not even halfway.

Ezra fists the blankets tightly, letting out an impressive stream of Lothal curses. “I said I was sorry! And I won’t mess up again!”

“Yes you will,” Kanan answers calmly. “Hera and I don’t expect you to be perfect, Ezra. Everybody messes up from time to time. Just remember that we’ll always be here to hold you accountable for it, and maybe next time you’ll think twice before putting yourself in danger.”

“But you- ow! You don’t have to!” Ezra yelps, and his voice sounds thicker and more tremulous now, like he’s holding back tears.

The Jedi smiles somewhat fondly. “Yeah I do, kid.”

“Bantha shit!”

With another quiet sigh, lands a flurry of harder smacks to the top of Ezra’s thighs. His apprentice makes a muffled noise of pain, like he’s biting his lip, and kicks his legs – an action which Kanan rewards with another set of heavy-handed swats, finally driving a strangled cry from the kid.

“But _why?!”_

“Because your actions have consequences, kiddo,” Kanan murmurs, pausing briefly so that his words can properly sink in, his hand rubbing the area he’s just punished. “And I’d rather you face them right here, over my knee, than at the end of an imperial blaster.”

Ezra tenses over his lap, sucks in a couple of shallow, ragged breaths, then all at once breaks down in tears. Grief and regret and guilt and sadness ripple across their force-bond, but chasing right behind it is a far stronger wave of _relief,_ as though Ezra had doubted they truly cared about it at all.

Kanan does his best to send love and warmth and acceptance and reassurance back along the bond in pulsing waves, closing his eyes to focus on that vibrant connection between them (now stronger and brighter than it’s ever been), even as his hand begins to fall again. His swats are lighter now, enough only to remind Ezra of the sting that likely already burns in his hindquarters.

“You’re my apprentice,” he says again. “And what’s more, you’re a part of this crew. I can’t tell you that the months ahead are going to be any easier than these past few weeks have been, but I can promise you one thing; we’ll be right beside you the whole way.”

When Ezra’s only response is to cry harder, Kanan falls silent, letting the kid work through his emotions as he slows his hand, his swats little more than taps now.

There’s a lot of old pain there, he can sense it; born of long years spent fending for himself, grieving for his stolen parents, wishing for the comfort and security of a familiar embrace. There’s a part of Kanan that still feels guilty for not sensing the youth’s presence years earlier; he’d been so afraid of reaching out to the force after so many years of silence, he hadn’t even _tried_ to keep looking for other survivors after a while, not after the Empire had marked the Jedi as _Extinct_ in the official public archives.

But perhaps if he’d found the boy sooner, if he’d been there when the Bridgers had first begun broadcasting, maybe he could’ve done something to save them…

_Stop it. He’s here now, safe, that’s all that matters._

He gives a slight shake of his head to derail that train of thought, flexing out his tingling fingers as he rubs between Ezra’s shaking shoulders with his other hand. He can feel the youth shudder as he sobs quietly into his folded arms, and knows the lesson is at an end.

“We care about you, Ezra,” the Jedi murmurs. “You’re important to us; to _me._ Which is why I’m no longer willing to stand by and watch you put yourself in harm’s way.” He strokes a hand down the kid’s spine soothingly. “Do you understand?”

Ezra gives a few jerky nods, hiccupping tearful little breaths, and Kanan’s heart goes out to him. In the space of a moment, he’s pulled the teenager up and into his arms, holding him close in a tight, comforting embrace.

To be honest, he’d expected the kid to stiffen a little or pull away, but instead Ezra practically _melts_ into the hug, hands gripping onto Kanan’s jacket tightly, burying his face in his master’s shoulder as he cries.

“Easy,” Kanan soothes, rubbing his back. “It’s okay, buddy, I got you.”

He can’t say for sure how long they stay like that, Ezra curled up in his lap and clinging to him like his life depends on it, but it’s long enough that by the time he pulls back to look at him, the kid’s tears have dried up. Although Ezra’s eyes are red-rimmed and he has this _fragile_ look about him that makes Kanan want to keep him close a little longer.

“You okay?” he asks softly, tipping the kid’s chin up so that their eyes meet.

Ezra nods, although he still looks a little uncertain. “You’re not…you’re not still mad at me for running off, right?”

Kanan smiles a little and shakes his head. “No, kiddo. I was never mad. Just…worried.”

“Sorry.” The kid winces and glances away. “I didn’t think…”

“What, that I cared enough to have kittens when I found your bunk empty?” Kanan asks, his tone gently teasing as he ruffles Ezra’s already-unruly hair. “Well, now you know.”

“Yeah.” Ezra gives him a wincing sort of smile and shifts. “Thanks for that.”

Kanan’s smile widens by a fraction and he helps the youth stand, squeezing the back of his neck when Ezra promptly yawns wide enough to unhitch his jaw.

“Get some sleep,” he murmurs. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” Ezra asks around another yawn, scrubbing an arm across his eyes as he climbs into bed. “We going somewhere?”

Kanan reaches down to tug the blanket up over him. “You’ll see. Computer? Lights out.”

As the room is plunged into darkness and he makes his way to the door, he hears a quietly whispered _“night, Master”_ and knows that the boy’s ready for what he has planned. If he’s right, it’ll strengthen their bond even further, bringing them closer together as master and apprentice. He’d better get some sleep himself.

He’s going to need his strength if he’s to face the Jedi Temple tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Hera: Or, Why It's Not A Good Idea To Steal The Phantom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after the season 1 finale, in which Ezra goes against a direct order, uses Chopper to distract Hera, and steals the Phantom to go hunting for Vizago the smuggler in the vague hope that he'd be able to help them uncover Kanan's whereabouts.
> 
> Needless to say, Hera wasn't overly happy with his decision.

 

 

.

 

Oh, he’s in trouble. Kanan’s only been awake for all of two minutes, and already Ezra's in it up to his neck.

Bantha-shit.

It’s a miracle, really, that the man has any strength left in him at all, given what the Inquisitor put him through in Imperial custody. Kanan had obviously relied on the Force for strength during his lightsabre battle with the Pau’an, and that strength had kept him going during their subsequent escape and reunion with the crew of the _Ghost._ The Jedi had remained on his feet long enough to deliver a report of the events that had occurred from his perspective since the destruction of the signal tower, but he’d sagged visibly soon after, stumbling on his way out of the command centre in the rebel cruiser.

 _“You alright there, mate?”_ The worry in Zeb’s voice had been their only warning, and Ezra had turned in time to see Kanan sway alarmingly, his descent to the floor interrupted by the Lasat’s quick reflexes. _“Karabast. I told you this would happen, you stubborn narkal.”_

Ezra’s instinctive panic had settled quickly after Ahsoka had settled a hand on Kanan’s brow and pronounced, after a brief silence, that he simply needed rest. Zeb had transferred the groggy Jedi back to his cabin the _Ghost,_ and Hera had left Ezra sitting at the bedside to keep an eye on him while she spoke to the rest of the rebel fleet.

 _“Don’t let him get out of bed,”_ she’d told him, gaze lingering on the man’s sleeping form. _“I’ve heard tale of the Inquisitor’s techniques – it’s not something most people spring back from overnight.”_

 _“But Kanan’s a Jedi,”_ Ezra had insisted, stubbornly clinging to that glimmer of hope. _“He once told me I could learn how to resist mind-probes, so he’s gotta have some kinda Force-shielding up there, right?”_

Hera had given him a sad, tired sort of smile, fingers brushing through his hair. _“Maybe so,”_ she’d agreed quietly. Then, turning to look at him more fully, _“Are you alright to watch him for a little while? I have a few things I need to attend to, but you can com me if you need anything.”_

 _“Sure,”_ he’d agreed readily, unwilling to leave Kanan’s side just yet anyway after days spent searching for him frantically.

His master had slept solidly for a full hour, clearly exhausted, and Ezra had occupied himself with the steady, reassuring rise-and-fall of the Jedi’s chest, still a little in awe of the fact that they’d actually been able to pull off the rescue mission without a hitch.

Then the man had woken up, and Ezra had been all too keen to share his version of events when Kanan had asked how they’d managed to find him.

“So I kinda had to steal the _Phantom_ ,” Ezra explains, and quickly raises a hand to stop the Jedi from scolding him. “I wasn’t on my own, Sabine came with me, and she managed to trick Zeb into coming aboard too.”

Kanan’s brow has furrowed slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt, only shifting a little against the pillows behind his shoulders and taking another sip of his Joja juice.

“See, if there’s one guy on Lothal who I _know_ can get intel on Imperial prisoners, it’s Vizago,” the youth continues. “But he was kinda reluctant, you know, with how much more difficult the smuggling business had become since we attracted the Empire’s attention and upped security on Lothal. I, uh, I kinda told him you were a Jedi?” He winces when Kanan’s frown deepens. “Only because he wasn’t going to help me! Vizago didn’t believe me anyway.”

Kanan huffs out a quiet laugh at that, and drains the last of his juice. “No, I imagine he didn’t.” He sets the cup down on the bedside table and fixes Ezra with an expectant look. “So, how did you convince him I was an all-powerful Jedi?”

“Oh. I kinda…” Ezra mimes using the Force by wiggling the fingers of one hand in a slow-sweeping sideways motion. “Levitated a crate over his head.”

Kanan sits up sharply, eyes wide. “You did _what?”_

The teenager winces, and gently pushes on Kanan’s shoulder to get him to lie back down again.

“Never mind,” he tries to backtrack. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, you need to rest.”

His master resists the push, taking hold of his wrist to tug Ezra closer so that the boy is yanked onto the bed with a yelp, perching on the edge of the mattress as Kanan leans in closer, his brow furrowed again.

“No, we’ll talk about this _now,”_ he says firmly. “You told Vizago that you were a Jedi?”

Ezra rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, wincing. “Yeah. Kinda.”

“Oh, Force.” Kanan pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes briefly. “Ezra, we’ve _talked_ about this. The more people who know about your connection with the Force, the bigger a target it puts on your back. Why do you think I didn’t want you to use your lightsabre in front of Calrissian the other week? We can’t trust men like him with the truth, not when that information can be traded or bought for the right price.”

The teenager sighs, deflating a bit. “I’m sorry, okay? I just…I had to make him believe me, otherwise he wouldn’t have told us how to find you. And you’d been missing for _days_ , Kanan. Sabine and Zeb thought maybe you were already dead, and Hera wouldn’t let me search for you, but I could _feel_ that you were alive and-”

Kanan yanks him close in a tight embrace, cutting off the barrage of words, and Ezra leans into the contact gratefully, arms coming up to wrap around the Jedi’s neck as he tries to get his breathing back under control.

“I was scared,” he confesses, in a small, quiet voice that doesn’t really sound like his own. “I didn’t know if I’d be able to find you, but I had to _try.”_

“I know.” The Jedi holds him tighter, one big hand rubbing his back, and Ezra feels the tension from the past few days begin to ebb away. “I know, buddy.”

The cabin door opens with a soft _whir,_ but Ezra doesn’t pull back from the embrace in embarrassment the way he might’ve done a few months ago. It’s only a kriffin hug, after all, and he’s beyond the point of caring about appearing weak in front of the others. They hug often enough in front of him, after all.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” comes Hera’s voice, soft and amused.

Kanan huffs another quiet laugh against Ezra’s hair. “Sorry, Captain. I’ll get right to that in just a sec.”

A hand settles in his hair, Hera’s judging by the weight of it, and Ezra turns his head to the side to peer up at her. The green-skinned Twi’lek smiles down at him fondly.

“It’s late,” she murmurs. “You ought to be in bed, too. Go on up to your cabin, I’ll be there in a little while.”

Something nervous and uneasy flutters in his stomach at her phrasing. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

She leans down to kiss his uninjured cheek. “So much trouble,” she agrees, but her voice is full of warmth. “Get going, mister.”

Kanan pats him on the back sympathetically. “I’ll see you in the morning, kiddo.”

He gets up to leave, shooting Hera a nervous look as he skirts around her at a safe distance to get to the door (he’s learned from experience that she has no qualms about landing passing swats if he strays too close when she’s pissed at him, and even if she doesn’t look angry now, it’s better to err on the side of caution).

“Ezra?” Kanan calls after him, and the youth pauses in the open doorway to glance back over his shoulder. The Jedi’s laid back down again, exhaustion written into every line of his face, but his smile is warm.

“I may not approve of the risks you took in hunting me down,” his master says quietly. “But I’m glad you found me. Thank you.”

His throat growing tight, Ezra only nods, knowing that Kanan will likely be able to sense his true feelings through their bond. And for once, he’s glad of it.

 

 

OoOoOoOoOoO

 

 

“You’ll go easy on him, right?”

Hera hums softly, neither a yes nor a no, and tucks the blankets up around Kanan’s torso, smoothing her hands over them as she leans down to kiss the man tenderly, closing her eyes at the comforting reassurance of his lips against hers.

It had been the hardest decision of her life, calling off the search. Every instinct within her had been screaming to do otherwise, to go out again and keep looking for Kanan until they’d turned over ever stone in the galaxy. But Ahsoka had been right to caution her against pursuing him – to actively seek out the Empire had been to put Ezra in danger. The boy wasn’t hers, not by blood, but he was a child in her care nonetheless, and protecting him from the Inquisitor had been her priority at the time. She couldn’t bear to lose them both.

“Hera.” His hand comes to rest against her cheek, fingertips stroking the skin there and she leans into the contact, tilting her cheek into it and kissing his palm.

“He disobeyed a direct order,” she reminds him softly. “Stole the _Phantom_ without leaving any indication of his intended coordinates. He even told some smuggler named Vizago that he was a Jedi.” She sighs tiredly. “You know we can’t just let this pass, Kanan.”

“I know,” the Jedi murmurs, eyelids drooping as he blinks slowly, stubbornly fighting his exhaustion. “That’s a few too many black marks for us to overlook. But at the end of the day, the kid still saved my life, Hera.”

“And I’m proud of him for it,” the Twi’lek insists, tapping the control on the wall above the bed to dim the cabin lights, plunging the room into semi-darkness. She cups his face, just able to make out his features in the dim lighting, and leans down to kiss him again. “I knew you’d feel conflicted about this – why do you think _I’m_ the one handling it?”

“Because he stole your ship?” Kanan teases, his voice heavy with fatigue.

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “I suppose that might’ve been another deciding factor.” She kisses him again. “Get some rest. I’ll be back once Ezra’s asleep.”

The Jedi grunts in sleepy acknowledgement, and Hera quietly slips away, satisfied that her knight will remain stationary at least for the time being without someone there to watch over him.

She stands in the narrow corridor for a long moment, mentally preparing herself for the task ahead. It isn’t the first time she’s had to take Ezra to task for pulling a dangerous stunt and disobeying her, but usually the situation’s a little more clean-cut. She isn’t usually so overwhelmed with gratitude, for one; because Kanan’s right, at the end of the day Ezra’s actions _did_ save the Jedi’s life, and Hera will forever be indebted to him for that. But on the other hand, he deliberately went against a direct order, put himself and others in danger, and neglected to tell Hera where he was headed when he stole the _Phantom._ Perhaps it had paid off this time, but if there’s a _next_ _time,_ they may not be so fortunate.

Hera intends to make sure there _is_ no ‘next time’.

 

 

 

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

 

 

 

Ezra bites his lip, hands fisting the blankets on his bunk, eyes stinging and rear-end burning as Hera lights a fire back there with her hand.

He’d kinda been expecting this to happen from the moment he’d hatched the plan with Sabine. Hell, they’d both known – Hera wasn’t one to overlook _Phantom-_ snatching, and to go against her orders at the same time? Yeah, they’d pretty much set themselves up for a trip over her knee. Zeb was in the clear, lucky Lasat. Okay, mostly because Ezra and Sabine had tricked him into coming along with them, but also because Zeb was an adult and, yeah, probably way too big to fit in Hera’s lap.

“I’m proud of you for finding a way to locate Kanan,” she tells him, her tone warm even as her hand falls harder (and kriffin hell, how does she manage to smack harder than the Jedi, she’s half his size). “But stealing the _Phantom_ and running off without telling me was a dangerous thing to do, Ezra.”

“I know,” he agrees, and hates how uneven and _fragile_ his voice sounds. “I just…I didn’t know what else to do!”

Hera pulls him tighter against her, landing a series of heavier swats against his upper thighs that have Ezra drumming the toes of his boots against the floor, eyes brimming wetly.

“You could’ve come to me,” she tells him firmly. “You could’ve talked me through your plan _before_ running off halfway across-planet to find Vizago.”

“Ow! I-I didn’t think you’d listen to me!” Ezra insists, tears cutting scalding lines down his cheeks as he twists in her hold, unable to keep from attempting to avoid her stinging hand. “You said we couldn’t search for Kanan anymore, I didn’t think you’d _wanna_ talk!”

Hera’s hand comes to rest on his burning, stinging cheeks and he stops struggling instantly, his breaths hitching in the silence that lingers between them for a brief moment.

“I will _always_ listen to you, Ezra,” she murmurs with feeling. “No matter what the situation may be, I’ll never turn you away if you need to talk to me.”

She rubs his back a little, and Ezra relaxes, going boneless over her lap, fists unclenching from around the balled-up blanket on his bunk.

“You scared me today,” she adds after a short pause, and her voice wavers ever so slightly, the sound cutting Ezra like a knife. “Kanan was already gone, I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again, and then when I realised you and Sabine were missing, I-”

She goes silent again, and Ezra swallows past the painful lump in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I’m really sorry, Hera.”

The Twi’lek heaves a tired-sounding sigh above him. “This can’t happen again, Ezra. Do you understand me?”

He nods, then yelps out a curse when Hera’s hand falls against his backside again in a series of rapid, heavy swats. Already on the verge of tears from their conversation, he’s woefully unprepared for the sudden, stinging barrage, grief and regret and self-pity welling up inside of him as she stokes the fire back to life in a matter of seconds.

Ezra gives up on stoicism after that.

 

 

 

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

 

 

 

Hera sighs quietly to herself, eyes closed as she rests her cheek against the dark head of hair. After the stress of the past few days, it’s a relief to have Ezra safe and sound in her arms, albeit crying into her shoulder after a good hiding.

She’s exhausted, though, after meting out the necessary discipline to both her wards in the space of a few hours. It’s been a long time since she last took Sabine to task, and the Mandalorian’s certainly grown an inch or two since Hera last had her over her knee, but little else between them has changed. For all the younger woman’s determination to act as an adult, behind closed doors she’d been the same stubborn-willed teenager that Hera had taken in all those years ago.

Ezra’s grown too, taller and less scrawny than he had been when they’d first found him on Lothal. The change has been gradual, but Hera can feel the difference as she holds the boy, her embrace tighter than she would have dared give a few months ago, when Ezra had seemed skinny enough to break in two if enough pressure was applied.

“Easy,” she soothes, rubbing the kid’s trembling back. “You’re okay now, sweetheart. I’m here.”

The youth clings to her harder, face buried in the padded leather of her uniform’s shoulder patches. “M’sorry,” he says again, his voice thick with tears. “M’really sorry.”

She turns her head just far enough to press a kiss to his hairline. “Shhh. It’s behind us now, Ezra. I forgive you.”

It’s unlike the teen to cry so hard or for so long after such a (comparatively) short trip over her knee, but she knows a lot of it will stem from exhaustion and relief, and from all the feelings he’s likely been suppressing and internalising these past few days since Kanan was taken from them. She’s certainly in no rush to quieten the boy – better that he gets it all out here and now, safe in her arms, than alone in his bunk at some later point.

It takes a while, but at last her softly murmured reassurances seem to settle him, the youth’s tears slowing and finally stopping, his hitching breaths growing more even.

Only then does she ease him away from her embrace gently, reaching up to cup his face between her hands, thumbs wiping the last tear-trails from his cheeks, being particularly careful with the one that bears the evidence of a sabre-burn.

“I love you,” she reminds him softly. “That’s why I won’t let you put yourself in danger.”

He nods ever so slightly, his gaze dropping. “I know.”

“Also?” She tilts his head towards her to press a kiss to his brow. “Steal the _Phantom_ again, and you’ll be scrubbing it from aft to stern with a scouring brush. Understood?”

His lips twitch up at that in a shy, guilty smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Reaching into a pocket, she pulls out the bacta-patch she’d swiped from the emergency medkit earlier, peeling off the paper from the adhesive wings and gently smoothing it into place over his burn, smiling when he blinks at her in surprise. “Keep that on overnight, it’ll feel better in the morning. How did it happen?”

“The Inquisitor threw his lightsabre at me,” Ezra says around a yawn, as Hera nudges him up from her lap and into bed. “And then I fell, like, thirty feet.”

Hera regrets asking. She really didn’t need that visual plaguing her nightmares after the events of the past few days.

“Well, you’re safe now,” she says, more to reassure herself than the teenager, and tucks him in. “And the Inquisitor’s gone. Things are looking up for us.”

“Mm,” Ezra agrees, a sleepy hum, redrimmed eyes already half-closed. “Night, Hera.”

She leans over him to turn off the cabin lights. “Goodnight, Ezra,” she murmurs, stroking her fingers through his hair briefly as she stands. “Sweet dreams.”

 

He’s asleep before she makes it to the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments on the last chapter! Let me know what you thought of this one, and if there are any episode-specific scenes you might like to read :)

**Author's Note:**

> I currently have 6 chapters planned for this story - one for every adult with any influence on Ezra's life, spanning all three series. The fics are unlikely to be chronological, but I'll try and give you an approx time frame for those wanting to avoid spoilers.
> 
> If anyone has any additional requests for scenes/scenarios you'd like to read, let me know! Ezra's certainly capable of getting into trouble a heck of a lot.


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